NOTES OF CONCERN….
…..Jack Blair
SNOW
I am very biased. I love snow.
Now that we have that out of the way, my prejudices stated up front, we could talk about snow.
As I drive through town and I see the snow piled so high along the streets, especially in the downtown area, I recall trips to ski resorts where snow was always around and things always looked wintery.
People wore bright clothes, their faces were ruddy from being out in the sun and skiing or snowboarding, and there was an air of excitement and enjoyment.
Over the years I have come to realize that most of this was Disney-like. The world really isn’t like that. The resorts use a lot of smoke and mirrors to create that feeling. Yet many Americans spend huge amounts of money just to spend a week or two in the snow.
In towns across America, folks like me who really enjoy winter enjoy not just the skiing or the parties or the bright clothes. We like to watch snow falling. We don’t have to be out in the snow. We can have a feeling of satisfaction just looking at it out the window.
When the snow is really fluffy and coming down in big flakes, my wife and I like to take our Labrador retrievers and go for a walk. We put on our big coats with our hoods, get our hands into gloves, pull on our boots and away we go. We have almost as much fun as the dogs!
The most rundown house looks great in the snow. No one cares about landscaping because the snow produces a landscape all its own. Cars move on the streets as if in slow motion. Drivers are more cautious. The everyday things of life seem surreal. Everyone takes more care with their daily activities .
Most kids like snow. They like it because it usually means no school, or at least a late opening. They can go out and play in the white stuff. They make angels in the snow. They construct snowmen, they engage in snowball fights.
Somehow when it snows a cup of coffee tastes better; a pot of tea brings back warm memories, and hot chocolate with marshmallows-to die for.
Is there anything like sitting in front of a fireplace, warming oneself with a drink and a good book, while the wind howls outside and the snow falls? I don’t think so.
So my friends, you can either look at the “white stuff” with excitement and optimism, or you can moan at the inconveniences it brings and the drudgery it creates in your life.
If you are in the latter group, you are really missing out on one of nature’s gifts to us. Nature gives us the beauty of fall leaves, the hope of a new spring, the relaxation of a long and sultry summer, so we should assume that we are intended to get equal enjoyment out of the white and snowy winter.
It is true lots of folks hate winter many of them become the “Snowbirds” that southerners like to talk about. They fly out of the north and head for the south as soon as the cold weather arrives. Then they return to the north and flee the south as soon as the hot weather arrives there. They spend their time and money trying to change the seasons of life.
How about engaging in an experiment.
Greet the snow with open arms. Get out in it. Don’t focus on the work it brings but rather on its beauty. I know the work is still there, but you can even make that part fun.
I knew a lady once who had a rather long driveway. When it snowed, she saw it as an opportunity to create something beautiful, to be artistic.
She would wait until the snow was fairly deep, then she would go out with her shovel and create what looked like a carefully crafted three or four foot wall of snow, beautifully sculpted, on both sides of her drive. She didn’t shovel and throw, she shoveled and designed. It took her a long time. But when she was finished she had created a thing of beauty. It was her way of making a chore into an adventure.
To the snowplow driver, the mailman on foot, the elderly who cannot safely get around in winter, and many others I know, this is a bit of Pollyanna talk.
Nevertheless, for those of you who seek the enjoyment of winter, it is there for the taking.
Let it snow!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Alfred A. "PAT" Knopf, Jr
Great Reads and a Good Life
ALFRED A. KNOPF, JR
By Jack Blair
If you love books as I do, you probably have encountered some great best sellers. Among books that qualify for that title are:
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee
The Making of the President 1960 by Theodore H. White
The Rothschilds: A Family Portrait by Frederic Morton
Soldier in the Rain by William Goldman
These and so many other books were published by Alfred A. Knopf Publishers, Atheneum Publishing House, Charles Scribner's Sons, or MacMillan, Inc. In each of these places, the wisdom of Alfred A. Knopf, Jr. played a critical role.
The world knew him as Alfred A. Knopf, Jr., the scion of a very famous publishing family. I knew him as "Pat."
Pat passed away in New York City last week at the age of 90. His passing was noted in every major newspaper. He was a legend in his industry.
The Pat I knew rode the New Haven Line every morning from Green's Farms, Connecticut, to Grand Central Station. Every night he reversed the trip. For over fifteen years we rode the rails together.
Spending a couple of hours a day with a fellow provides you a keen insight to his personality. Pat Knopf always rode in the same train car, the head car.
Those of us who played bridge every morning and gin every night rode in that car with him. Although he was occasionally a card player in our group, more often than not he was a kibitzer. Much of his ride was involved in reading manuscripts and selecting books for publication. His brief case was always over filled to the point that it could not be completely closed.
Pat was a rumpled man. He very much resembled what might be the caricature of a man who spends all his time in a library, alone with his books. However, he was far more interesting. He loved to laugh and to talk of the events of the day. He was interested in the lives of his children, who were away at boarding school when we rode the rails, and he talked about them with us often. While he could easily have resided in a beautiful Park Avenue residence, he liked to get out to the country every day. He said it recharged his batteries.
Pat's publishing house held many book parties, events where he would introduce the author or subject of a book to a group of potential readers or opinion makers. Every now and then he included a couple of his pals from the train.
On one such occasion I was invited to a private party at The Metropolitan Opera house for the launching of Dame Kiri Te Kanawa's biography.
What a thrill to meet Dame Kiri, who later sang at the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana, and all those people who move in her circle of friends and acquaintances. She signed a copy of her book for me, and I spent a good deal of time standing on the sidelines, with a glass of chilled white wine in my hand, watching her as she greeted many dignitaries.
Another time Pat invited me to the launch of a biography he published of the great opera singer, the mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne. At first I wondered why I was getting invited to launchings for musical folk, but then realized that Pat had picked up that I loved classical music, and he was kind enough to realize that of those events to which he could invite me, these would mean the most.
Well, Marilyn Horne is not one that you can stand on the sidelines and watch. She is full of vim and vigor, she has a contagious (and loud) laugh, and she was the center of her party the entire evening.
At these events, Pat was always the impresario. He planned and executed the party. He selected the guests. And it was obvious that he had made a friend of the person who was the honored guest.
Pat had suggested to me on one of our rides that I write a book. We talked about it on many of our train trips, and it actually got to the stage where he sent one of his ghostwriters to meet with me in Westport, Connecticut, to talk in greater detail.
As I look back on that experience, I realize that Pat found lots of people passing through his life that he could encourage to write their book. Like a salesman making 100 calls to get one sale, I suppose Pat planted the seed over and over again, and the result was those best sellers, and other equally wonderful books he published.
Lots of people think they want to write a book. Many think they can write a book. I found myself with one of the great men of the publishing industry interested in encouraging me to do just that. And I could not. I admit I sat down a number of times and put pen to paper, without success. What did I learn? I learned that most people can't write a book.
I spoke with Pat two years ago. He was retired and residing in New York City. We had a good "catch up" conversation. He was less animated than I remembered, but he may well have thought the same of me.
As we live, people pass through our circle of life. It is one of the greatest opportunities life offers. We need to cherish the moment, enjoy the personality, and build the memories.
They are all too quickly gone.
But like the books he published, the final chapter in the book of the life of Alfred A. "Pat" Knopf has been written, and the cover is closed.
ALFRED A. KNOPF, JR
By Jack Blair
If you love books as I do, you probably have encountered some great best sellers. Among books that qualify for that title are:
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee
The Making of the President 1960 by Theodore H. White
The Rothschilds: A Family Portrait by Frederic Morton
Soldier in the Rain by William Goldman
These and so many other books were published by Alfred A. Knopf Publishers, Atheneum Publishing House, Charles Scribner's Sons, or MacMillan, Inc. In each of these places, the wisdom of Alfred A. Knopf, Jr. played a critical role.
The world knew him as Alfred A. Knopf, Jr., the scion of a very famous publishing family. I knew him as "Pat."
Pat passed away in New York City last week at the age of 90. His passing was noted in every major newspaper. He was a legend in his industry.
The Pat I knew rode the New Haven Line every morning from Green's Farms, Connecticut, to Grand Central Station. Every night he reversed the trip. For over fifteen years we rode the rails together.
Spending a couple of hours a day with a fellow provides you a keen insight to his personality. Pat Knopf always rode in the same train car, the head car.
Those of us who played bridge every morning and gin every night rode in that car with him. Although he was occasionally a card player in our group, more often than not he was a kibitzer. Much of his ride was involved in reading manuscripts and selecting books for publication. His brief case was always over filled to the point that it could not be completely closed.
Pat was a rumpled man. He very much resembled what might be the caricature of a man who spends all his time in a library, alone with his books. However, he was far more interesting. He loved to laugh and to talk of the events of the day. He was interested in the lives of his children, who were away at boarding school when we rode the rails, and he talked about them with us often. While he could easily have resided in a beautiful Park Avenue residence, he liked to get out to the country every day. He said it recharged his batteries.
Pat's publishing house held many book parties, events where he would introduce the author or subject of a book to a group of potential readers or opinion makers. Every now and then he included a couple of his pals from the train.
On one such occasion I was invited to a private party at The Metropolitan Opera house for the launching of Dame Kiri Te Kanawa's biography.
What a thrill to meet Dame Kiri, who later sang at the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana, and all those people who move in her circle of friends and acquaintances. She signed a copy of her book for me, and I spent a good deal of time standing on the sidelines, with a glass of chilled white wine in my hand, watching her as she greeted many dignitaries.
Another time Pat invited me to the launch of a biography he published of the great opera singer, the mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne. At first I wondered why I was getting invited to launchings for musical folk, but then realized that Pat had picked up that I loved classical music, and he was kind enough to realize that of those events to which he could invite me, these would mean the most.
Well, Marilyn Horne is not one that you can stand on the sidelines and watch. She is full of vim and vigor, she has a contagious (and loud) laugh, and she was the center of her party the entire evening.
At these events, Pat was always the impresario. He planned and executed the party. He selected the guests. And it was obvious that he had made a friend of the person who was the honored guest.
Pat had suggested to me on one of our rides that I write a book. We talked about it on many of our train trips, and it actually got to the stage where he sent one of his ghostwriters to meet with me in Westport, Connecticut, to talk in greater detail.
As I look back on that experience, I realize that Pat found lots of people passing through his life that he could encourage to write their book. Like a salesman making 100 calls to get one sale, I suppose Pat planted the seed over and over again, and the result was those best sellers, and other equally wonderful books he published.
Lots of people think they want to write a book. Many think they can write a book. I found myself with one of the great men of the publishing industry interested in encouraging me to do just that. And I could not. I admit I sat down a number of times and put pen to paper, without success. What did I learn? I learned that most people can't write a book.
I spoke with Pat two years ago. He was retired and residing in New York City. We had a good "catch up" conversation. He was less animated than I remembered, but he may well have thought the same of me.
As we live, people pass through our circle of life. It is one of the greatest opportunities life offers. We need to cherish the moment, enjoy the personality, and build the memories.
They are all too quickly gone.
But like the books he published, the final chapter in the book of the life of Alfred A. "Pat" Knopf has been written, and the cover is closed.
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